She's so Radioactive (razz my berries)
by AvaRosier
Summary: It's 1956, and Derek is a greaser. Lydia insists that as her boyfriend, he escort her to the Spring Hop. (Written for the TW Spring Fling on tumblr)


AN: I did some minimal research for cars and slang terms, mostly. But lord knows this is hardly the most historically accurate fic out there. Also, I'm fairly exhausted, so it's possible I failed at beta-reading my own fic.

Songs: Karen Chandler 'Hold me, Thrill me, Kiss me'; The Platters 'My Prayer', and Billy Ward and the Dominos 'Sixty Minute Man'

* * *

Beacon Hills, 1956

"I'm just saying, Scott, that I completely understand why you've been panting after Allison- she's got one classy chassis- _oh my god stop hitting me_!"

"Then don't talk about Allison like that!" Scott hissed, his head twisting around to make sure none of the milling students had overheard what Stiles had said. The last thing he needed was Allison catching wind of this.

Stiles clutched his arm and tried to look as martyred as possible. He could already feel the bruises forming.

"_Objectively_! I just don't understand why you can't be equally accepting about the eternal torch I carry for Lydia."

But Scott was shaking his head at Stiles' defensiveness with an uncharacteristic lack of amusement.

"It's not even the same thing and you know it, Stiles. The only thing that gets in the way of Allison and I going steady is her father's gun collection. And her mom's possibly poisoned cookes," he muttered thoughtfully before remembering the point he was trying to make. Scott nudged the other boy's shoulder to get him to focus on the seriousness of the situation.

"But Lydia is not a free bird- she's dating a member of the Hale Pack. _Listen to me Stiles_! If you so much as look at Lydia the wrong way, Derek will go ape on you!"

But Scott's pleas were falling on deaf ears because Stiles had just gotten a glimpse of Lydia Martin herself, sauntering up the steps of Beacon Hills High School in the latest fashions and with her hair perfectly coiffed.

"Hey, dolly…what's cookin'?" He drawled, making moose eyes at the petite redhead.

Lydia didn't even pause to dignify that with her precious time.

"Drop dead twice!" she snarled over her shoulder before stalking inside the school with her clique.

The simple fact that Lydia Martin despised him did not seem to phase Stiles. The warning bell rang and Scott picked up his backpack. "C'mon, we better hurry before Mr. Harris has reason to give us detention."

Stiles groaned.

"Oh yeah, that class is going to be a drag. Speaking of drag- I heard through the grapevine that the Alphas challenged the Hales to run a drag down at Whistler Road the night of the dance."

Scott just stared at Stiles uncomprehendingly. "And I'm supposed to care about this because..."

Stiles flung his arms and parroted Scott's tone. "Because...Derek is probably going to have to show up and leave Lydia broken-hearted at the Spring Hop. And that is where I, Stiles Stilinski, will step in and be a friendly shoulder for her to cry on."

Scott gave up. His best friend was probably going to end up pummelled this weekend.

"Has anybody ever told you that you're kind of an awful human being, Stiles?"

Stiles only shrugged and grinned back at Scott, swinging the front door open.

"Only all the time, Scotty. Only all the time."

* * *

Lydia Martin scrutinized her appearance in the girls' bathroom mirror and once more deplored the horrible fluorescent lighting that made it virtually impossible to accurately judge whether the shade of her lipstick clashed with her blouse and skirt. Her ponytail was impeccable, though, the ends curled.

Her best friend Allison was next to her, not even checking her appearance before the warning bell rang for fifth period. "Did you see Scott riding his bike down the street this morning?" Allison was sighing dreamily, clutching her notebooks to her chest. "He's the most!" she giggled.

Lydia did not _giggle_ unless she was trying to manipulate something out of someone. And neither did she understand what Allison saw in that dork McCall. Unlike Lydia's own boyfriend, Scott's bike did not possess an engine.

Hoping to steer the topic of conversation away from Scott's 'cuteness' and onto a topic that was more _about her_, Lydia capped her tube of lipstick and turned to Allison with an expectant smile.

"What are you going to wear to the Spring Hop on Saturday? Mother took me shopping in San Francisco last weekend and I found the perfect dress- it's magenta, sleeveless but with a respectable neckline, and I convinced my parents to pay for it to be altered because the skirts are always longer on my frame, you know." As Lydia gushed over her dress, she took in Allison's increasingly guilty expression and the smile disappeared from her face.

"Your parents said no, didn't they?"

Allison nodded. Lydia released a put-upon sigh that caused Allison to try to explain.

"They just think that if I go with Scott, he'll expect what boys always expect and I have to _stay strong so I can go to college_," Allison mocked in perfect imitation of Victoria Argent. Lydia summoned up a modicum of patience.

"Firstly, Scott isn't a jock and he thinks you walk on water- he'll do whatever you want, so your parents have nothing to fear on that front. Secondly, it's going to be a bash, and you've been talking for months about gaining more independence from your parents. You're nineteen now, Allison, don't be such a cube!"

She punctuated her words with the emphatic slamming of her makeup bag into her purse, panting slightly before she got herself under control. Allison just smiled fondly at her, which warmed Lydia on the inside. Allison was probably her only friend who enjoyed being around her in spite of her impatience and controlling tendencies.

"So, you _are_ going to go with Derek? I don't know whether to be surprised he's going to show up to a high school dance or surprised your parents are letting you out of the house with him." Allison marvelled as she finally looked in the mirror and began to fix a few flyaway strands escaping her bouffant bun.

Lydia had to smirk at the notion that either Derek or her parents had any say in what she did.

"As if my parents could stop me. You keep forgetting that I know _exactly_ what to leverage against their social sensibilities. As for Derek, let's just say I'm making it worth his while," she insinuated. Allison's eyes went wide in the mirror's reflection. Lydia couldn't help giggling this time. It was always fun to scandalize Allison.

Her parents, in fact, did not approve of Derek Hale in the slightest. Lydia had dutifully informed them prior to their first date that this was not some clichéd form of teenage rebellion- she was not the good girl dating the bad boy to defy her parents' expectations. Predictably, they still did not understand, and instead her mother had taken to ominously and rather gleefully predicting Lydia's fall from grace. He'd probably seduce her, her mother had sneered at her one evening, while Lydia was primping for her dinner date with Derek, and then he would leave her pregnant and where would she be then?

"You can't expect any better from him, he's got jack rabbit blood in him, even if he's a Hale," Mrs. Martin had sniffed.

The Hales were an old and well-off family, even if Peter Hale was frequently up to no good with his little motorcycle gang that operated out of the garage he owned. But Derek worked in the garage, not in a lawyer's office like Jackson Whittemore would after college. And Derek wore leather jackets and rode a motorcycle and didn't exactly avoid trouble with the law in Beacon Hills county. Unlike Jackson Whittemore, who drove a Chevrolet Bel Air, wore a letter jacket, and was going to _be_ the law like his father.

If Lydia married Jackson, she wouldn't be able to go to Stanford and study Mathematics. She'd be a society wife, and the thought was enough to cause a clench of anxiety and horror in her stomach.

Lydia didn't bother explaining to her parents that Derek working at his uncle's garage was not a career choice. And she certainly hadn't told them that he was planning on moving down to Palo Alto to be near her. Or that he had already gotten a job with a wood-working company there.

Mr and Mrs. Martin would rather Lydia graduate high school in a few months and then marry Jackson, because she would be 'better off' with him. Which just went to show what her parents knew, which was a big fat _nothing_. Lydia had actually dated Jackson for two weeks at the beginning of Junior year, mostly going to the local Drive-in or a meal at Brint's Diner. He kept trying to cop a feel, even after she had repeatedly outlined her physical boundaries. And then she found out that he had blabbed to the lacrosse team that she'd been a total fake-out, so she dumped him.

Lydia Martin was not one of those loose girls that people liked to call 'Little Miss Roundheels', like that Erica Reyes who liked to wear too much makeup and tight blouses. But Erica just sneered at the insult and ignored the taunts. Good for her.

And then the summer before Senior year, she'd met Derek. He might've been a greaser, but he treated her much more nicely than any other man she'd been around. And he didn't have any problem with her going to college and working even after marriage. Not many men would, and Lydia knew a good thing when she had it.

"Are you guys jacketed yet? It seems you've been dating him forever," Allison asked, interrupting her thought process.

Lydia considered this for a moment. "I suppose we are. But we don't use such infantile labels for our relationship; the concept of jacketing is _so high school_."

Allison wisely did not point out that Lydia was still in high school, and simply nodded as Lydia pushed the bathroom door open and swept out into the hall as if it were a runway in Milan.

* * *

On the other side of town, Derek Hale straddled his parked bike while he rolled a blunt carefully with his fingertips. Several other motorcycles were parked next to his, as his pack-mates were relaxing in the same late afternoon breeze he was.

"Isaac- cast an eyeball. Send up a warning if you see any cops or the Alphas," Derek ordered, sticking the slim cigarette between his lips. The last thing they wanted was Sheriff Stilinski or Deputy Argent coming around to make trouble.

Derek had just finished a shift at his uncle's garage and was currently trying to avoid going home because he didn't want to deal with his aunt's ankle-biters. A man needed his space and solitude. Just a few more months, then he was going to blow this joint...

"You gonna take Lydia up to Sweetheart Hill after the race this weekend? Get in some backseat bingo?" Boyd asked teasingly, a light-hearted grin on his face. None of the Hale pack members were aware of just how gone Derek was over Lydia Martin. He shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe. I got to take her to some dumb school dance on Saturday. Get chrome-plated in a suit and everything," he groused. "Chicks, man. I don't know how she manages to talk me into this shit."

Derek knew full well how Lydia had talked him into taking her to the Beacon Hills High Spring Hop. His girl was nothing if not an evil, manipulative genius. He had taken her out for a milkshake and then a movie at the drive-in. For this, he had borrowed one of his uncle's cars- the '55 DeSoto- because she routinely refused to ride on his bike since her _nice skirts would get dirty and wrinkled and her hair would be just impossible to fix_. Personally, Derek thought she looked gorgeous all mussed up, but he had learned to pick his battles.

So, he'd taken her to see _Invasion of the Body-Snatchers_. He figured she would refuse to get scared, pick apart everything that was wrong or idiotic about the premise of the film; but eventually, she'd forget and crawl into his lap so that she could hide her face in the crook of his neck. He liked it when she did that, so sue him.

She had worn his favorite blue skirt, the one with the soft material he liked to touch (it was the only way she would let him put his hands on her ass).

He should have known she was up to something when she initiated the make-out session barely halfway into the movie.

It had gone something like this:

_"Oh, Derek," she had moaned into his ear. "Touch me."_

_Derek, in the middle of dutifully creating a hickey along the pale column of her neck, had lifted his head and stared at her in confusion. "What?" _

_The request threw him- he'd been pretty good at making sure his hands stayed in the Lydia-approved 'respectable zones'. Patiently, she took the hand that was flirting with the skin just past the hem of her knee-length skirt, and placed it upon her clothed breast._

_Derek's brain short-circuited around that moment. Reflexively, he squeezed lightly and the soft noise she made then sent sparks of electricity through his body. He was hard- there was no way she could miss that, not with the way she was wriggling in his lap._

_She let him lightly massage her breast for several more minutes before she placed both her hands upon his shoulders. She was giving him her serious, arguing- with-me-is-futile smile._

_"Derek. Sweetie. There's a Spring Hop at school in two weeks."_

_"Hmm-mm," he had nodded, not really comprehending where this was going, most of his attention still on the soft mounds he was gently cupping in his hand. He thought he could feel a bit of nipple nudging against his palm._

The minx.

_"You're my boyfriend, it's your duty to escort me to the dance. This means wearing a suit, but I will mostly only require that we dance during the slow songs because I doubt you can boogie-woogie to save your life-"_

_And then he realized what she was telling him to do._

_"No." He dropped his hands from her chest down to her waist. It nearly killed him to do so._

_Lydia just grabbed them and placed them both back on her breasts._

_Her smile was wider, more predatory, and she had him trapped in the driver's seat. Vaguely, he thought he could hear someone screaming as they were murdered in the movie. Or maybe that was him._

_Lydia was talking again._

_ "I highly doubt you want me to take another man as my date. Especially Jackson Whittemore. He would probably try to touch my breasts." She pressed harder against his hands to demonstrate her point(s)._

_Derek growled at that. _

_"That's what I thought." Lydia had grinned victoriously._

_Before he could complain about her underhanded tactics, she started talking about incentives and rewards. "If you take me to the dance, I'll let you customize my convertible," she purred, fluttering her eyelashes down at him, "you can pop its cherry."_

Lydia had this sweet flat-top that she had kept cherry, right out of its factory settings. But Derek still wasn't sure she had been talking about the car, then.

Yeah, so he was pretty sure he was going to marry her.

"Crap," Isaac muttered, getting to his feet and staring off into the distance as a familiar Chevrolet Bel Air slowly cruised past them, windows down. It was Jackson Whittemore, with his obnoxious jelly-roll hairstyle. "You'd think he was cruisin' for a bruisin'," Boyd hissed as he straddled his bike and gunned the engine.

"Not now," Derek cautioned them lowly, suspicion blooming in his glare. "Just get on your bikes."

No sooner than he had warned the pack, Jackson was speeding away and Deputy Argent's cruiser was rolling into the parking lot.

"Fucking dime-dropper ratted us out to Argent. We gotta burn some rubber, Derek!"

Derek just nodded at Boyd and Isaac, and the three of them shot out of the parking lot.

* * *

The doorbell had no sooner rang than Lydia was flinging the door open and closing it behind her, not willing to suffer through a passive-aggressive interrogation by her parents. Her mother was already on her third martini. To subject Derek to her would be a disaster and she refused to let anything ruin the night.

"Lydia…" Derek's voice was a rough whisper.

Her thoughts were brought up short as she took him in. He was wearing a proper jacket and his hair was slicked back neatly. He'd even shaved off his usual stubble. Derek's lips were moving a bit, but no sound was coming out as he looked her over. Suddenly self-conscious, she smoothed down the bright pink material of her full skirt.

"You look beautiful," he finally said, earnestly.

"Really? Well you look very handsome, yourself. Is that my corsage?"

Derek seemed to shake himself from a reverie, which pleased Lydia to no end. She gave him her hand so that he could slide the white blossom onto her wrist.

He didn't let go of her hand, and Lydia couldn't help blushing a bit when he bent down to press a kiss to her cheek. She didn't know if Derek had noticed, but when he was respectful and polite like this, it really excited her. It was in those moments that Lydia really wanted to manhandle him into a dark room and _ravish _him or something. Later.

And then Derek was leading her to his uncle's car.

"C'mon, let's agitate some gravel. I know how you like making an entrance."

The Beacon Hills High School gymnasium wasn't lavishly decorated, but with a few touches, Lydia supposed it could have been worse. The ceiling was decorated with strings of shiny, reflective silver stars and several strategically placed lights created a glittering atmosphere.

Derek and Lydia, of course, created a small stir when they entered the gym. She could practically taste the jealousy in the air. It was delicious. They stopped to have their photographs taken, and Lydia scolded the nervous photographer until he relented and let her stand on the right because that was her good side. She didn't give a whit about "_well, honey, all the girls are standing on the left_".

Derek was tense at her side as he took in the students smiling and twisting their bodies to the upbeat rhythm of Karen Chandler's _Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me._

__"I don't want you to think I'm not grateful that you're showing up here when it's probably the last place you want to be. I know your uncle probably expected you to be at the race tonight." Lydia murmured up to him as she straightened his jacket lapel.

"I don't mind," Derek said. "Besides my family adores you and even Peter suggested that I should suck it up and go. I think he's a bit scared of you." Lydia had to snort at that, no matter how unladylike it was. Now, Peter Hale was someone she thought should drop dead twice.

_Hold me, hold me,_  
_Make me tell you I'm in love with you._  
_(Hold me, hold me tight, never let me go.)_  
_Thrill me, thrill me,_  
_Walk me down the lane where shadows_  
_Will be, will be_

"Lydia! You finally made it, I was beginning to wonder," Allison called out as she dragged a star-struck Scott off the dance floor. She looked lovely in a butter-yellow dress and sensible white heels. She stopped in front of them, and stared up at Derek.

"And Derek! Hello!" she breathed. Scott just grimaced. Yes, this wasn't at all awkward.

Lydia preened next to her boyfriend and smiled at Allison. "I think I was supposed to be the one wondering. Glad to see you escaped your parents' clutches. And Scott's still alive...for now," she teased.

"Lydia!"

A slower song came on and Lydia ignored Allison's exasperation in favor of clutching Derek's arm and dragging him out onto the floor. "We have to dance to this song!"

They found a space in the center and Lydia was surprised that Derek wasted no time pulling her close and beginning to sway in time with the melody. So she let herself forget about the other students and rested her cheek against his chest. Together, they rocked back and forth as if they were alone in the room.

_My prayer is to linger with you_  
_At the end of the day in a dream that's divine_  
_My prayer is a rapture in blue_  
_With the world far away and your lips close to mine_

They'd made plans to stay together after she graduated high school. To get married. They hadn't gone all the way or even said those three words. Not just because Derek was not very verbose about his emotions , but Lydia feared the way intimacy would open her up and expose her, raw and vulnerable. So it went unspoken between them, but very much felt. He knew that as much as she prized rationality, she adored sappy romantic stories. She insisted on cuddling, not just because she enjoyed it, but becuase she knew he really did.

_Tonight while our hearts are aglow_  
_Oh tell me the words that I'm longing to know_

Lydia kept her promise to only make Derek dance to the slow songs, and while everyone else was jiving to the faster beats, they would sit at one of the tables with some punch and have a murmured conversation. Allison and Scott would join them from time to time, which was a good thing, because Stiles kept glaring at Derek and forget about her boyfriend throwing a punch in the high school gym, Lydia was this close to strangling Stiles with the tie he was improperly wearing.

Thankfully, Erica pulled him away and insisted he dance to some new song by a singer called 'Elvis'. Whatever, Lydia didn't have time for songs sung by a flash in the pan. It was nearly nine o'clock and Lydia really wanted Derek to take her up to Sweetheart Hill. She had plans, and she'd had her fill of dancing.

"Derek, I think it's time you and I cut out. Let's go for a drive."

He didn't need to be told twice. They were halfway across the parking lot when an angry, bitter drawl sounded behind them.

"Well, look who we have here…slumming it with criminals now, Lydia?"

Lydia groaned and spun around on her heel to face Jackson, gripping Derek's elbow tightly to keep him from springing forward and ruining the other boy's face. Not that Jackson wouldn't deserve it.

"Don't listen to him, Derek. He's just trying to rattle your cage."

He was alone, not even Danny had come along for back-up. "Yes, Derek, listen to the little lady like a good lap-dog. Be sure to check yourself later to see if your balls have shrivelled up and disappeared yet!" He said mockingly, smirking as he goaded Derek.

As for her boyfriend, he only bared his teeth in a dangerous grin. "I think you've put too much Brylcreem on your hair, Whittemore. It's clearly killed off your brain cells."

Jackson's nostrils flared. "Well I wonder what the town will say when I spread the word that you might be in the family way thanks to Hale here? You and I both know people will take my word over yours and your reputation will be ruined. Things might even get a bit dangerous between your family and the Hales," he spat out as his eyes glinted cruelly.

Lydia pressed her lips together tightly and narrowed her eyes at Jackson. Then a slow, terrible smile grew on her face.

Jackson felt his confidence stutter in that moment.

"It's adorable that you think you can blackmail me like this. But remember this, Jackson: even your daddy couldn't throw enough money at Berkeley to take you back when the Beacon Hills Reporter is running a story about how you cheated on the SAT."

She had the satisfaction of seeing his adam's apple bobble as he gulped. "You fucking bitch."

Lydia sighed and turned to Derek.

"Pound him."

* * *

_Look a here girls I'm telling you now_  
_They call me "Lovin' Dan"_  
_I rock 'em, roll 'em all night long_  
_I'm a sixty-minute man_

Derek only had slightly scraped knuckles, which Lydia had soothed with the brush of her lips against the wounded flesh. The moment he had found a spot to park, overlooking the town, Lydia had practically pounced on him.

He really hoped that he wasn't going to have to fight some jackass to get her straddling his lap like this, about to go off like a rocket. Electing not to worry much about that now, Derek slanted his mouth over hers so he could slide his tongue deeper against her own. After several minutes of frantic, dizzying kisses, Lydia lifted her head away. She was panting softly and her pupils were blown. There was no way she was going to be able to re-do her hair before he took her home later. She looked downright wanton, and all his.

"I'm not going to lose my virginity in the backseat of a car, even if it's a car as nice as this one," she scolded him sternly. "I deserve a nice bed and plenty of time for you to properly heat up my engine. But until then…"

She reached behind her back and unzipped her dress and then unsnapped her brasserie. Slowly sliding her arms out of the straps, she tossed the garmet to the side and grinned down at Derek, bared from the waist up.

_Oh, god. She was going to be the death of him._

"Now, touch me."

Derek figured there was one way to say 'I love you', but probably about a million ways to show it. So he did.

_There'll be 15 minutes of kissing_  
_Then you'll holler "please don't stop"_  
_There'll be 15 minutes of teasing_  
_And 15 minutes of squeezing_  
_And 15 minutes of blowing my top_


End file.
